Churchyard rainsound

I hear the dead whisper in the trees
As raindrops shatter on quivering leaves.

Dead buried beneath
Long probing roots in soft flesh earth,
Where the dead of man and plant
Merge in compound harmony,
Watered by the juice of clouds,
To rise skyward through woody sap
And raise their voices in sibilant rainsound
In praise of the God of life.

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